Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Trying to find a good wall calendar sucks. I spent about two hours browsing online until I finally found one good enough to grace my wall for an entire year.

Have a zit under my right nostril, but, like… on the skin between where my face and nostril meet? It’s horrible and it hurts like a bitch.

I still desperately need a haircut. Hoping to find time this week because this shit really, really needs to be tamed.

I hate it when my touch-pad goes all retarded on me.

I know that New Year’s is just a few days away, but I’m kind of tired of all of these Best/Worst of 2010 lists that are popping up everywhere.

I watched The Time Traveler’s Wife recently and the end result was me crying like a bitch.

I watched Scott Pilgrim vs. The World recently and the end result was me not crying like a bitch.

teaser-trailer.com

No tears formula

I’ve placed a ban on stuffed animals. My daughters have so many that it is absolutely ridiculous – it has to be well over forty or fifty -- after donating a shit-ton of them to various charities.

The girls got Moon Dough for Christmas, and while the idea is cool, the execution sucks. The stuff flakes and turns into powder, so it gets all over anything in the vicinity (particularly fabric) and requires massive clean up.

I have banned that shit until further notice.

My deodorant is totally failing me right now. I find this greatly distressing.

TMI?

So, this is it – the final RTT of the year. I don’t have any New Year’s resolutions but I am hoping that in 2011, I will be able to sleep through the night ccompletely uninterrupted at least once. That would be AMAZING, but would require Munchkin to stop being so neurotic for a two year old, and for my stupid cat to stop hurpa durrping at five in the morning. Wish me luck.

Monday, December 27, 2010

I don’t suppose many people spend Christmas searching their local sex offender registry and getting worked up into a murderous rage, but that’s precisely what I ended up doing this past Saturday. Don’t get me wrong – the morning was filled with much joy as the girls opened gift after gift and squealed in delight at the things that Santa brought them. There was the usual post-gift-exchange clean-up (you know, the one that seems to span infinite time and space because there’s so much paper and cardboard everywhere?) and phone calls to and from relatives to exchange best wishes and all that jazz. However, a run of the mill trip to the mailbox turned into something entirely unexpected because The Fates decided to piss in my cornflakes. Big time.

wikipedia.org

Now with 50% more piss!

First off, who checks their mail on Christmas Day? I only did it because it had been a few days and wanted to make sure there were no cards from friends or relatives that needed to be opened, etc. Anyway, I didn’t get any holiday cards – only some junk mail, a statement for our HOA dues (don’t most people buy houses to AVOID things like the HOA??), and a curious pamphlett from the Sheriff’s Department. I had actually dropped the pamphlett on the ground, and in my rush to pick it up before any left over rainwater soaked it through, the words “sex offender” immediately jumped out. Unfolding the paper revealed a shitty black and white photo and a notice that the man pictured lives a little ways down the road and is a Level 3 sex offender.

Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabulous.

After the kids went to bed and things settled down, I ended up using my county’s sex offender registry to find out more about the creeper on the flyer but instead, I found a bigger reason to flip out. There are two other guys -- both Level 2 offenders -- living within the area. When I Googled WA state's criteria for how they classify these fucks, this is what I got:

Level 2 offenders have a moderate risk of re-offending. They generally have more than one victim and the abuse may be long term. These offenders usually groom their victims and may use threats to commit their crimes. These crimes may be predatory with the offender using a position of trust to commit their crimes. Typically these individuals do not appreciate the damage they have done to their victims.

Level 3 offenders are considered to have a high risk to re-offend. They usually have one or more victims and may have committed prior crimes of violence. They may not know their victim(s). The crime may show a manifest cruelty to the victim(s) and these offenders usually deny or minimize the crime. These offenders commonly have clear indications of a personality disorder.

Reading through the profiles of each of the men made my skin crawl; Level 2 raped a drugged victim – a fourteen year old girl whose family considered him a close friend. Further read-through of the dossier revealed that prior to this, he was convicted in Cali for attempted rape of a drugged victim (so he came to WA and succeeded!?! GAH!!) and unlawful intercourse with a minor. Level 2 No.2 decided to touch a couple of his family members in places that should never be touched by any relative ever. Mister My-Face-Showed-Up-In-Your-Mailbox (Level 3) has molested several girls ranging in age from 5 – 15.

roflposters.com

No explanation needed.

So, yeah, I’m pretty pissed. Livid, really. It’s bad enough that these vile creatures (they aren’t humans; people that like to fuck children are not human by any means) are even allowed out of prison to begin with, as they are repeat offenders and are likely to re-offend. Oh, and there’s an elementary school located two miles from my house, which is within two miles of where these things live, according to the registry. It’s like an all-you-can-eat buffet for them!! What the fuck?!? Really, what the fucking fuckity fuck?!? I don’t give a shit if these guys are currently being monitored by the local police department – they should not be anywhere near children!! And MY children!! And my HOUSE!! My perfect house (with the imperfect lawn) in this perfect little neighborhood with its tupperware parties and cigar-smoking gatherings!! Who in the shit let this happen?!?!

When Jeremy and I watched Kick-Ass for the first time, we marveled at Hit Girl.(Ooh, tangent!) The trailers and telly spots made her look incredibly annoying, but in the actual movie, she was a total badass, dismembering groups of grown men with assorted firearms and sharp, pointy things. At one point, we looked at each other and I don’t know who spoke first, but the conversation was short (and completely serious):

“We need to teach the girls how to do that.”

“Yeah…!”

ultramegacityborg.com

Too much?

We have always talked about putting the girls in some form of martial arts while they are still young, but now that I know about the monstrosities living down the road, I’m thinking that weapon and firearm training might be a good idea, too. I mean, you never know when shit’s going to get real.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Who caught the lunar eclipse last night? I got to see a little of it but it was too damn cold out to be standing in my driveway past midnight! Pretty cool though, right? (The eclipse, not my low tolerance for the cold.) Anyway, it’s Tuesday so that means it's time for (drum roll, please)…

Ta-Da!

Oh, shit. Christmas is on Saturday, isn’t it. (Fuuuuuck…)

I haven’t finished my Christmas cards yet. (Fuuuuuck…)

You know that guy who wrote that book about pedophilia? I’m glad he was arrested and I hope he dies. Painfully. I am completely serious.

The new Lonely Island single is out!! Have you seen the video or heard the song? It will change your life!

Society has clearly started advancing.

I’m surprised that Munchkin is still alive. Why? Because the damn kid doesn’t eat. Midget hit this phase, too, but Midget was never a garbage disposal.

My mum sent me an old lady cardigan from Victoria’s Secret. It smells of plastic and is definitely the frumpiest piece of clothing I own.

When my mum told me that the package was from Victoria’s Secret, I felt the need to remind her of that time that I quit my job at VS after sitting through the six-hour training seminar.

Goddamn, this sweater really smells of plastic.

Midget and Munchkin have proclaimed that they like “Telephone” by Lady Gaga and Beyonce.

The girls also like “I’m On A Boat,” by The Lonely Island and will start singing it when it comes on in the car. However, since they are obviously not allowed to use “grown-up words,” they really can’t (and don’t) sing along past the one-minute mark.

Does anybody know who this creepy bitch co-hosting Attack of the Show is?! She’s like, this skinny little goth woman with a GIANT head and deep red lipstick. She’s gross.

I could probably Google that last one, but I don’t really feel like it.

Now that I have managed to either bore you or freak you out (or both) for the week, I am off to waste more time playing Zuma Blitz instead of doing something constructive – like wrapping presents or decoupaging the shit out of some stuff I picked up for the girls. Merry Christmas, folks~!

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Can I blame my lack of meaningful blog posts on Santa Buddies? Because I just saw a thirty-second television spot for its premier and I swear at least half of my brain cells just died. All I could do was stare in slack-jawed horror at the bizarre images on my “tee-bee,” as Munchkin so enthusiastically calls it. I think the real horror is that puppies will always appeal to children, so Midget, who was actually asking me questions about that movie during a shopping trip earlier this week, is going to be ALL OVER that shit.

I’m black-listing Santa Buddies. Or Paws. Or whatever the shit it’s called. I have a short list of blacklisted movies and television shows; I think that letting my kids watch something that’s incredibly stupid could be way more damaging than letting them watch a five-minute Mickey Mouse short. Now, I know that they are kids, and these are just movies, and they are family-friendly, and blah, blah, blah, but some of these movies are just so damn ridiculous that I can’t help but be like, “No.”

Of course, this doesn’t mean that I don’t let the kids watch things that are meant for their age group. We own every Pixar movie that is out on Blu-Ray (why the fuck haven’t they released Finding Nemo yet?!), along with the traditional Disney movies involving princesses and other magic. The girls have both been allowed to watch the Harry Potter movies, though they will not be allowed to see Deathly Hallows in any capacity until they are much older. (I wanted to ban Half Blood Prince as well, because of the gruesome introduction of the Sectumsempra curse, Inferi, and – of course – Dumbledore’s death, but somehow it slipped through the cracks during one of its excessive screenings on HBO. Even worse is that it seems to be Midget’s favourite HP film… “Is this the one where Draco gets all bloody?”)

The thing that I find the most interesting about kids and movies these days is that back in the 80’s, kid-friendly movies were much different from what we consider acceptable in this day and age. Like Labyrinth – where we had David Bowie’s gargantuan balls/cod-piece/groin-area sneaking into almost every scene in the entire movie. Transformers The Movie dealt with the death of Optimus Prime and included the infamously edited line, “Oh shit – what are we gonna do now?!” Or how about The Goonies?! Awesome movie – a classic! But what were some of the things included in that flick? Profanity, a dead body, a family of gangsters that wanted to MURDER a group of kids.

Also worth mentioning about 80’s family and children’s movies is that there was nothing like Beverly Hills Chihuahua or that Shark Boy and Lava Girl bullshit. It makes me wonder when and why the standard for what’s appropriate for kids to see changed – and why.

I’m not really sure of where I’m going with this, to be honest. In fact, this whole post was largely the result of a breakdancing dog, so take from that what you will…

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

It’s kind of late, and today has sort of sucked, but it’s still Tuesday, which means that I can still squeeze in my weekly stream-of-consciousness fuckery and feel glad that I managed to post something.

At around one this morning I was awoken by a CRAZY wind storm. It sounded like the Cloverfield monster was outside of my house screaming and shaking it. Yes – the wind was shaking the entire goddamn house and knocked the power out for about two seconds.

cloverfield.wikia.com

Midget has been sick for a few days and I am desperately trying to get her better by tomorrow so that she can sing in her school’s holiday program. However, the kid does not believe in rest, even when she is running a temperature and looks like she is dying.

On the subject of Midget, no headless dolls this week! W00t!

Washington drivers are seriously some of the worst I have ever seen. It’s amazing how many people don’t use their signals, cut you off, tailgate, and go under the speed limit. I fucking hate these people.

There is seriously nothing on telly right now. I have a bazillion channels and I can never find anything that I want to watch. WTF, Comcast?

IGN.com did their Game of the Year awards, and I seriously don’t understand how or why Heavy Rain was nominated for and won Best Horror Game because it is not a horror game by any stretch of the imagination.

Just discovered Zuma Blitz on Facebook. Holy hell, I now have a new time-suck.

I have yet to mail out my Christmas cards. Megan only got hers because I included it in a package I sent her way. All of the other cards are sitting on my counter. Blank.

You know what else is blank? The inside of my head at the moment. Today has been so aggravating that I’m totally fried. Ugh. It might be time for me to run upstairs and police the living shit out of bedtime, as I am hearing way too much noise coming from the baby monitor (which I hate with a passion, btw. That’s a story/rant for another day…).

You know what, though? I’m going to take this RTT out on a much more positive note by including a shout out to a certain homie of mine who is having a baby tomorrow!!! Congratulations, dude!! :D

Munchkin has hit that really aggravating part of the Terrible Two’s where everything we tell her is met with a curt, “No.” Totally not my idea of a good time.

Root beer is gross.

I will never understand why young children are obsessed with standing on their heads.

Midget took her Princess Jasmine doll to school yesterday. When I picked her up in the afternoon, Jasmine was newly headless, her plastic neck made of jagged edges.

I am not entirely convinced that Midget “twisted it too much.” Twisting does not usually snap hard plastic.

Dunham Smash?

No 90210 until the end of January! What the fuck, CW?? And what the shit with the ending to last night’s episode? It concludes on an intensely sinister note, but then the preview for the next episode is all cheery and happy and campy.

I started Alan Wake months ago now, and I am only on the second chapter. I need to buckle down and finish it.

alanwake.com

Lack of progress makes Alan sad.

I still have yet to resolve this whole phantosmia issue.

I donated all of my Dickies pants to charity today. As much as I loved those pants, I will never be able to fit into them again. Thank you, post childbirth hips!! (This is blatant sarcasm.)

Sunday, December 5, 2010

My kids are fucking weird, and I say that in the most loving possible way. I’m pretty sure that Jeremy and I have a lot to do with this: through the miracle that is a night with movies and beer procreation, our individual eccentricities have joined together to create the goddamn Devastator of weirdness, which can now be found in our kids’ DNA (presumably somewhere between eye colour and body-type).

For the last couple of years, since Midget started talking, I have posted some of her more memorable bits on Facebook for my friends and family to see. So, since I’m kind of hurting for actual shit to write about, I’ve decided to share some of these bits here on the blog, so that anybody reading this can enjoy some of the oddities that come out of my kid's mouth. The two-year old is still a n00b when it comes to this speaking thing, so I don’t have any good quotes from her… yet.

Actual Snippet of Conversation #1

Me: Midget, what is your problem?!Midget: I don't KNOW! ... maybe I should sleep.
*grabs my face under my left eye and pinches*Me: ...?Midget: You with the cheeky cheeky.
*gives me an eskimo kiss and then smiles and caresses (yes, caresses) my face*Midget: I'm so sorry. I just mean that.

Actual Snippet of Conversation #2

Midget: Gizmo is going to take me to go see a movie.Me: He is?Midget: Yeah. He's going to take me to see a movie called "Hemelations."Me: "Hemelations?" O_oMidget: Yup. Bye mom! I'm going to see Hemelations now. Come on, Gizmo. You're taking me. ...Yup; you sure are!Gizmo: Mrow?

This fuckin' guy.

Actual Snippet of Conversation #3

Midget: Mommy, when I get older you will buy me a swore.Me: A what?Midget: A suh-worr.Me: ????Midget: A Suh-WORRR!Me: *light bulb over head clicks on* A sword??Midget: Yeah, a sword. When I get older you will buy me one.Me: Absolutely not.Midget: Why?Me: I don't even have a sword. Why on earth would you want one?Midget: So I can stab people if they touch my nipples.

Actual Snippet of Conversation #4 (This is the most recent one, taking place a few weeks ago.)

Who Am I?

Neurotic wife, neurotic mother. I have too many thoughts in my head, some of which involve the zombie apocalypse, why Spider-Man 3 sucks, and how to keep my sanity from completely oozing out of my ears (if that is, in fact, where sanity would ooze from).